Tuesday, May 7, 2013

On Dying

first, phrases became melodies
a tornado of emotion morphs quietly into half-notes and semibreves with time signatures that only made sense in different galaxies
colors hovered above me and became me
i was a holographic ghost
someone whispered "burn me"
they were weeping but their tears were different
they were less like the grey rain on earth and more like this brilliant, scattered glass across the moon
eventually i had to discover
how the sky feels on your face as we flew away from earth

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